Defenseless
by August Grey
Summary: What if when the young Vicomte came to the Opera Populaire he brought along his fiancée? How would that affect his relationship with Christine? More importantly how would that affect Christine’s relationship with the Phantom? Somewhat movie based. EC, ROC
1. Prologue: No longer his Little Lotte

A/N: This is my little take on the Phantom of the Opera. It is based character wise for the most part, on the 2004 Movie. So for Erik/Phantom will be Gerard Butler, Christine Daaé will be played by Emmy Rossum and so on. There is an original character in this story, Duchess Chantal Emblyn; she will play a pretty important role. I'm not exactly sure which actress I will have to play her... but when I do I will be sure to let you all know! This is a re post of the former prologue. I had received some reviews regarding how I took the words of the movies too exactly, which I agree with completely, so here is a new one. It falls along the same lines, however the dialogue is for the most part my own. Of course the beginning of this fiction will be parallel to the movie because it is loosely based on it, but in the future chapters, more specifically the next few chapters, it will astray from the movie almost completely. The Andrew Lloyd Weber movie is merely a familiar backdrop to aid the readers in following the story. For this chapter I got the lyrics of both "Hannibal" and "Think of Me" from:

**http // www . any song lyrics . com / lyrics / p / Phantom - Of - The - Opera / Think - of - Me - Lyrics . htm  
www . metrolyrics . com / lyrics / 235967669 / Phantom O f The Opera / Hannibal **

What if when the young Vicomte came to the Opera Populaire he brought along his fiancée. How would that affect his relationship with Christine? More importantly how would that affect Christine's relationship with the Phantom? Somewhat movie based. EC, ROC and slight RC in the beginning.

Disclaimer: Don't own Phantom of the Opera

* * *

**Defenseless**

By August Grey

**Prologue**: No longer _his_ Little Lotte

"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron…" the new owner, Firmin exclaimed brightly, his eyes scanning the attentive cast. He paused for a moment to which his partner, Andre, whom obviously was supposed to announce their new supporter. As soon as the taller of the two owners spoke his words, the group of ballet rats made their way up the stairs to hear this news, sixteen year old Christine Daaé was one of them. The dark haired girl just suspected it to be just another high society member of Paris that decided to toss some of their fortune to their weekly outlet of entertainment, which usually was the case.

"…the Victome de Changy," the gray haired man finished, clasping his stout fingers together. The young beauty's ears perked at hearing the name.

"Raoul?" she whispered, mostly to herself. As if on cue, the handsome Vicomte walked out onto the stage after she softly spoke his name, a wave of female gasps could be faintly heard as he entered their presence. Christine took a moment to soak in his fine features. A lot had certainly changed since that summer all those years ago. His hair was much longer, it fell roughly his shoulders, and it looked as soft as velvet. She bit her lips as she imagined what it would feel like between her fingers, the dirty blonde of his hair clashed with clear blue of his eyes, giving them an elegant sparkle. Letting her eyes drift slightly downward she noticed his toned body, snugly fitting in his expensive clothes.

However as the young dancer stared at her erstwhile friend, she didn't happen to notice the beautiful woman on his arm.

"It is a privilege and honor for my parents and I to support your fine Opera House," he began in his silky voice, "I am quite certain that our investment is well met by the distinguished reputation of the Opera Populaire." It was at these words that Christine saw the woman next to her childhood sweetheart. Jealousy then seemed to splash her in the face like a bucket of ice water. The feeling of a hand on her upper arm brought Christine back from her thoughts.

"Christine… look at him, he's _so_ handsome," her best friend, Meg Giry, whispered into her ear. All words seemed to evaporate from Christine's tongue whenever she began to answer; so she merely nodded. "I wonder who that woman is?"

That seemed to be the question of the hour. Christine desperately wanted to know what connection this woman had to _her_ Raoul. Even if it had been quite a few years since they had last seen one another, she still felt a little bit betrayed. _'You two were merely children then, you cannot expect him to pine for you after all these years… silly girl,' _she rebuked to herself, a sullen frown seeping onto her pale face.

"I-I'm not sure," she finally answered, after thinking about informing her friend about their history together, Christine decided against it. Why both dwelling on something that is obviously _now_ over? Looking back at the Vicomte she saw him kissing Carlotta's hand, and then someone finally asked who was clasped on his arm. He broke his gaze from the obnoxious soprano and turned to the mystery woman, the blue eyes that young Christine had been admiring earlier, staring deeply into her own.

"This is Duchess Chantal Emblyn… my fiancée." He finished his statement with a kiss on her rosy lips. The crew of the Opera once again began lightly clapping at this declaration.

If it were at all possible for Christine's heart to sink any lower in her chest, it would be now. Raoul was not only involved this woman… but he was going to _marry_ her.

"It was an pleasure to meet you all, but we must be interrupting your rehearsal, Duchess Emblyn and I will be here tonight to see your esteemed production of Hannibal." At those words Andre and Firmin began escorting the couple back out in the foyer of the Opera House. As they did this, the four all passed by where the ballerinas were assembled. Christine felt her breath hitch as Raoul bumped into her, causing her balance to falter. Now Christine was a ballet girl, mind you, her balance was exceptional even among the other girls there, normally she would not stumble at a mere accident such as this, but having his body lightly knock into hers caused her to let her posture fail.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed, turning to her. His eyes and soft smile caused her innards to melt at his gaze. His apology would have made any other girl there giddy with excitement at him paying notice to them, but for Christine it made her sad. He didn't recognize her.

"Are you alright?"

Trying her hardest to make the lump in her throat go away and not look a complete imbecile by lack of a response, Christine managed to force out her words.

"I-I'm fine, Monsieur… thank you."

His smile broadened. "I'm glad, we would not want one of valued members of the ballet to be injured."

A pale blush began to show on Christine's cheeks. Everyone was staring at them, making this little occurrence extremely uncomfortable. "Then you have nothing to worry about then sir, I am quite alright."

He nodded at her statement, another smile creasing his lips, "Good."

With that said, the Vicomte turned from her and continued making his way backstage, with the praise from the new Opera owners echoing back through the relatively silent corridors.

"Thank you, Monsieur," the conductor, Monsieur Reyer interjected through the clamor made by the cast of Hannibal. "Once more if you please, Signor?" The tap of his baton on his silver orchestra stand catching the attention of less than half of the Opera personnel.

"Christine?" the soft voice of Meg inquired to her friend, shattering the girl's preoccupation. The surprised look on her face signaled to Meg that her friend was thinking about the Vicomte. "It seems that our Christine has an interest in the new patron, no?"

"M-Meg… you couldn't be more wrong." She let her eyes drift away from her friend's. Whenever Christine lied, her eyes would always silently proclaim the truth, which at the moment the dark haired dancer did not want Meg to know. Letting her chocolate brown eyes catch a glimpse of her friend's knowing smirk. It seemed that the only way to get the blond haired girl's mind off her notion was to fib that she thought she recognized him from somewhere, and that she just remembered they were acquaintances as children. Well it wasn't a complete lie… she was just leaving out the part that they were sweethearts and that the feelings haven't entirely subsided.

"When father was still alive, the Vicomte and his family would have us at their house by the sea, I just couldn't remember that we had met before until now." The change in Meg's smirk after her explanation was slightly relieving to her.

Suddenly the tap of a cane rang through the stage. Madame Giry, Meg's mother and the ballet mistress of the Opera, stood at the opposite side of the stage an impatient look on her stern face, her black cane clutched tightly in her fingers. Andre and Firmin had finally returned and Madame Giry turned to the two of them.

"The ballet at the Opera Populaire is world renowned, they are trained with exceptional discipline in order to achieve perfection," she explained, motioning with her free hand that they move to side. The sound of orchestra beginning to play signaled to the ballet to begin their dance. The older woman began walking around the front of the stage, the managers following her.

Monsieur Andre felt the corners of his lips turn into a smirk, "Your practice has paid off, Madame Giry, the talent is superb." His eyes drifted over to Meg. "Especially that little blond angel."

"My daughter," she clarified abruptly. "Meg Giry."

Monsieur Firmin, on Madame Giry's left, cleared his throat. "And that exceptional beauty." His eyes scanning over Christine's person. "No relation, I trust?"

"Christine Daaé," she explained. "She is very accomplished for one so young, Monsieur Firmin, she has been training at the Opera for quite some time, she was orphaned at seven, and came to live here."

"She wouldn't happen to be the related of the late Gustave Daaé, would she?"

The sharp gaze of the older Giry turned on Firmin. "His only child… Monsieur, now please if you would move to one side."

Christine couldn't help but blush at the new managers' words as they spoke of her. She was flattered at first, by what she heard, but then when they mentioned her deceased father, it only stirred painful memories within the young woman.

The dance continued flawlessly, and La Carlotta ended on her high note with Piangi. The crew of the Opera winced at her voice, it was a common theory of at the Populaire that it was so potent it could shatter glass.

The over gloried soprano began to complain about the ballet rats' dancing, and how it would distract every man in Paris from the glory of her talent.

The old manager, Monsieur Lefevre walked over to Firmin and Andre. "The Gala is going to be quite the affair tonight, gentlemen, I believe the Vicomte will be very happy with his patronage to your Theatre."

In order to calm down the Diva, the maestro quickly pulled out the aria from Act 3, suggesting that she should perfect her solo even more, and in doing so it would focus the lime light even more so on her. Feeling her demands being satisfied, along with her ego being stroked by her managers she signaled the conductor to start.

With that order, Monsieur Reyer began the music with a flick of the wrist. Andre and Firmin clearly could have been actors in a past life, for whenever Carlotta looked over at them when she sang they nodded their heads and smiled broadly, acting as if they enjoyed the performance. However, not everyone in theatre was as impressed, for above a backdrop had been released and it fell right atop of the singing woman. With a scream of agony coming from the Diva everyone quickly ran over to her trying desperately to get the scenery off her ankle.

"It must be the Opera Ghost!" Meg exclaimed softly. Christine looked at her friend skeptically for a moment before letting her gaze wander back to the scene before her.

"Signora! Are you alright?" Monsieur Lefevre asked frantically. "What the hell just happened?"

The dirty stage hand Buquet quickly appeared above. "There wasn't anyone there, Monsieur," he digressed with a sly sneer playing on his lips. "It must have been the Phantom." Christine frowned at Buquet's words. The older man always spread the rumors of 'Ghosts' at the Opera House, and his favorite seemed to be the Phantom of the Opera. What bothered the orphan the most was that Meg and Madame Giry both seemed to believe in this story. However the only supernatural creature that Christine believed in was her Angel of Music, the genius that inspired her voice, the only thing that warmed her heart after her father died.

"…these things do happen," she heard Andre chuckle nervously to the intimidating soprano.

The graying man's words, desperately trying to make light of the accident only backfired, and infuriated Carlotta more.

"You two, these _things_ have gone on for too long!" She groaned, "Until you stop these _things_ from happening, this _thing_ does not happen! I'm leaving, bring my doggy and my…" Her words began to fade as she once again stormed off. It did not seem that attempting to convince the annoying singer of how this simply was merely ill fortune, and that they could guarantee her safety if she would just stay, would work. Contrary to that Andre still found a need to ask, only to answered by a shrug and groan of despair from Monsieur Reyer.

"What do you think they are going to do now, Christine?" Meg inquired, looking over her friend's shoulder to see her mother showing the manager's a letter from the 'Opera Ghost.'

"I don't know, Carlotta has made sure that no one is cast as her understudy, which probably is the only reason that keeps her around," Christine explained sourly, she couldn't stand Carlotta, like every other member of the Opera Populaire. Another reason that she probably did not want an understudy was that no doubt that girl would be better than her, and that would cause the singer to lose her power over them.

"Do you think that the Phantom of the Opera dropped that on her to get her to leave for good?" the blonde girl wondered aloud again. Christine shrugged. "Why would he want that, it would cause '_his_' Opera House to fall apart." That fact was also true, Carlotta was one of the only things that kept the crowd coming, without her the Populaire would tumble into financial ruin.

"Christine Daaé could sing it, sir."

Her ears perked up at the mention of herself. Her _sing_? In Carlotta's place? Turning around suddenly she saw Madame Giry approaching her, putting her hand on her shoulder.

"She is just a ballerina, has she any proper training?"

Christine felt her heart fall a bit at his lack of confidence in her, even though he did have a point. She was just a chorus girl…

"She has been tutored by a very talented musician," the ballet mistress encouraged.

Andre sighed, "Alright, it is worth a shot. Come along, don't be shy."

'_Easier said than done…'_ Christine mused to herself. She did not know what was controlling her legs at the moment but she was walking forward to the center of the stage.

"From the beginning of the aria, if you please…" Monsieur Reyer instructed with his baton raised.

"Andre," Firmin groaned from behind her, his gloved fingers rubbing his throbing temples, "I now know what Leferve meant by leaving for his health…"

"Firmin… please."

With one hard swallow, Christine began singing. She poured her heart and soul into every word, hoping to herself that her Angel could hear her… wherever he was. She looked over to Meg and her mother, who both smiled and encouraged her silently to move forward. That she did, she walked to the edge of the stage and belted the number, causing the large group of the opera members to return at hearing the angelic voice. Her voice was put to the test at the last note, which to her delight she nailed.

Inhaling deeply at finishing, Christine turned to Andre and Firmin, both who wore a look of awe.

"Brava!"

Everyone erupted in cheers and claps echoed through the Opera. Pride swelled in her chest at the reaction to her performance, not only because of the ovation she was receiving, but that she knew her Angel was pleased.

* * *

End of Prologue 

A/N: Well there is the first chapter. What do you think? **Keep** or **no**? The next chapter will dig deeper into the plot, and we will bring our favorite masked man. Next chapter I will stray away from the Movie's plot line and bring about one of my own creation. I know that there was a bit of Raoul/Christine in that chapter but trust me after Erik make's his appearance it will be Erik/Christine all the way. Please give me feedback on what you think, which means review!

**August Grey**


	2. Chapter 1: Can it be Christine?

A/N: This is a little author's note in regards to a few of my reviews of the first chapter. To all those who say that copied the dialogue from the movie too heavily, which I agree one hundred percent that I did, I must say that first of all it is legal because cited the sources. Once more I got the words of the songs for last chapter and this chapter from:

**http // www . any song lyrics . com / lyrics / p / Phantom - Of - The - Opera / Think - of - Me - Lyrics . htm**

**www . metrolyrics . com / lyrics / 235967669 / Phantom O f The Opera / Hannibal**) I promise you all that in the future all the words in this story will, for the most part, be my words, of course with the exception of any of the songs that I have taken from the soundtrack, and I will give credit to whichever site I find them from, and of course to the brilliant Andrew Lloyd Weber.

Thanks again to my reviewers: **Twinkle22, Guy Alice, Ophelia Ashford, laal ratty, Jungle Julia, LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath, 'Ello ya'll, ladyphan17, the Mouse in the Opera House, zeeksmom.**

Disclaimer: I don't know own any of this. I just put the "Fan" in "Fanfiction"

* * *

**Defenseless**

by August Grey

**Chapter One: **Can it be Christine?

The de Changy property in Paris certainly stood out among the other estates that graced the city. It was not the most dazzling of the homes that the Count had scattered across the country, but it surely wasn't the latter. The chateau was secluded from the bustling city, nestled gently in the outskirts. Privacy was a perk to nobility such as the de Changys, and they made the most of it.

The manor was made out of brick with tints of brown that ranged from tan to a dark mahogany hue, it provided a contrast that was undeniably amiable. The blocks that were blanketed under soft ivy, that gave the chateau a look of creditable age. Which was quite true, the Madison Plantation, the name of the property before Raoul's father had purchased it, was erected in the late 17th century. The setting of the golden sun provided a radiant aura that engulfed the structure in beauty.

Standing with his back to the open window was eighteen year old, Raoul de Changy. He was staring at his reflection in the floor length mirror, adjusting his necktie along with his dress coat. This evening was very important to his status in Paris, and he needed to look appropriate. Sure, his family's rank in society was clearly set in stone, they were the de Changys, and they were invincible.

But the young Vicomte was coming of age that his position was still up for grabs, he was beginning to outgrow the shadow that his family's title casted. The safety net, if you will, was no longer there. He was now going to be his own man, and being that patron for the Opera Populaire would either define him or destroy him. As the young man continued to scrutinize his appearance further in the glass he saw in the corner of his eye his housekeeper passing by.

"Elissa!" Raoul called out to the middle-aged woman, turning around brusquely, his neck flaring in pain to quip his actions. His abrupt call seemed to startle the woman, as when she looked at him her eyes had surprise written all over them.

"M-monsieur?"

"Would you please see to it that my carriage is ready to head to the Opera by six thirty, and to please inform my fiancée to meet me in the foyer at that same time?" After he finished his request the graying woman nodded her head briskly, as she scurried off to make sure her master's demands were met.

Raoul felt his heart flutter in his chest when he referred to Chantale as _his_ fiancée. It seemed like just yesterday that he proposed to the Duchess, but when in reality is was almost three months. Time was flying by very quickly for the eighteen-year-old, almost _too_ quickly.

The speed of everything was almost cruel, those moments that you wish that you could hold on to forever seem to slip through one's frantically grasping fingers. Raoul could easily think of a few times off the top of his head that he wish he could relive.

Proposing to Chantale, their first meeting, their first kiss…

They had met almost a year and a half prior to this day. Their parents had thought they would make a 'perfect' couple. It was obvious that the match was 'perfect' in the sense that it would provide zealous alliance with the Duke and Count. At first look of Chantale, the Vicomte thought her to be _very_ beautiful.

She was of average height, and very thin. Her hair was a light auburn that fell in soft ringlets, providing an exquisite frame for her porcelain like features. Her lips were full, nose petite and button like, and eyes like two gray pools that looked like they reflected back heaven itself. Her body too, was of such perfection that it would make Aphrodite green with envy. Raoul was instantly struck in the heart with an arrow from fair Cupid.

Chantale's person was not as pure as her exterior however. She knew what she wanted, and went for it, not fretting over the toes she might step on in pursuing it, at times it didn't bother him. Still, her personality did lack a bit of compassion that he searched for in a possible companion. She could be rude and demanding, and alarmingly jealous.

Nonetheless he proposed to the Duchess both because he loved her, and that it helped his family's reputation. Nobility married nobility. It was the golden rule of aristocracy; there was no exception.

Taking the small jar of oil, Raoul poured a dollop of the greasy substance into his hand. Rubbing together his hand and its twin, he dug his fingers into his mane of dark blond hair, causing the hair to obey his preferences. With his hair sleek and pushed back, the Vicomte removed the remnants of the liquid onto a nearby cloth and dubbed his hands with navy gloves (1). Slipping his silk clad fingers into his jacket pocket he pulled out his ancestral pocket watch.

"6:19," he murmured in confirmation. Replacing the timepiece in his coat he straightened up his appearance and exited the room.

* * *

"Welcome, Monsieur le Vicomte," Gilles Andre bellowed, obviously trying to let the fact that the Vicomte de Changy was their new patron, known to all of the gentlefolk that were in the foyer, more than an exchange of pleasantries with the young man. 

"Good evening to you as well, Messieurs," Raoul replied, using his free hand to shake Firmin's and Andre's hands. The two managers kissed the Duchess' silk clad knuckles as they greeted her as well.

"What a lovely gala this is promising to be, Messieurs… however did I not see a change in the program?" Chantale inquired her arm length gloved arms producing the pamphlet. Raoul looked at his fiancée with a look of curiosity furrowed in his handsome face, his brows knitting together in confusion.

"W-whatever do you mean, Duchess?" Firmin stuttered, not sure if their desperate search for an alternate for the Diva would go over well with the Vicomte.

"The replacement of La Carlotta, of course," the young woman scoffed, a smug grin playing at her lips. Oh how she loved to stir up trouble. Causing other's to squirm in uneasiness flooded her with confidence and power; she also perfected this skill over the years so that she could spew her slurs, exiting the conversation completely unabashed. Raoul's confused expression briskly replaced itself with a look of realization.

"Is this true?" he demanded politely.

"W-well…" Andre began, stumbling as he searched for the appropriate words to explain the incident to the patron. "… after you and the Duchess left, there was a little _accident _with a bit of the scenery, that caused Signora Guidicelli to feel the need to drop out of tonight's performance."

"I see…" Raoul said, thinking in the back of his mind that there might be a bit more to that story than what Andre had just told him, "May I inquire to whom Carlotta's replacement is?"

"Ahh… she actually was one of our own, in the Opera's chorus, a dancer. Christine Daaé, she is wonderfully talented, I think that you both will be _most_ impressed," Firmin quickly answered, his words laced thickly in strained praise for the unknown understudy.

"_D-Daaé_?"

Chantale looked at her fiancé as he spoke the chorus girl's name, a vexed frown creasing her pursed lips. Did he know this girl?

"Yes, indeed. She is the daughter of the late Swedish violinist, Gustave Daaé."

Raoul felt his heart flutter in his chest as he heard Andre's words, but it sped up when he saw his fiancée's glare, threatening to burn right through him. Her two, normally serene, gray eyes looked afire and if had the proper appendage would ask by itself, "How in the hell do you know this tramp?" Swallowing hard, he tried to wrap his mind around a lie that would satisfy the now very interested trio of Chantale, Andre and Firmin.

"When I was younger," the Vicomte began with false strength and truth that surprising provided a sturdy foundation for his words. "My father and I saw a brilliant violinist, that did go by the name of Daaé. We were most impressed and had him and his daughter over to our chateau. I was just trying to recollect if Miss Daaé was the little girl that had accompanied him to our home."

Chantale's eyes returned to their usual pleasant hue as the jealousy that had once smudged their glimmer had been cleared. That had been the exact reason he only told the first part of how he knew the now Prima Dona. Indeed, Christine and her father had come to their house for a small private performance; his parents had been so impressed with him that it became one of _many_ performances, but those had been anything but private.

It had been his family that helped glorify and make him known throughout Europe, so these gathering had Gustave performing in front of hundreds of nobility from all over the country and beyond. Little Christine, at the time, would stay their music room, playing the piano, or sometimes be singing a cappella, and to say the least her voice was as lovely as her father's violin playing. On one occasion, he had wandered into the room upon her mantra, and was completely entranced by the angelic sound of her voice.

From that chance meeting they had become inseparable, every time Gustave was called upon to play for the de Changys and their friends, he and Christine would spend time together, and also several times outside of her father's concerts. They were best friends, childhood sweethearts. However their bliss was cut short by reality, as most transitions from childhood to adulthood entail. Monsieur Daaé had fallen ill with fever, and the father and daughter traveled to friends in Paris in order to care for him better. He had not seen his Little Lotte, as he so adoringly called her, since.

"_Perhaps that will change tonight,"_ he thought with a small smile of anticipation. A small tug at his hand he looked to an impatient Chantale.

"Raoul… we must hurry to our seats. I want the Baroness de Chaffee to see our private box. It would make my night to see her face turn green in envy." She interjected a pompous laugh of delight; "It will match the hideous frock I saw her wearing as we arrived."

* * *

"Meg," Christine gasped as she let her head fell back against the wall behind her. "I can't breathe!" 

"Christine… don't be nervous, you'll do fine. More than fine… you'll steal the whole show, which you should do anyway because you're the leading lady."

The seventeen-year-old brunette brought her hands to her face at her best friend's words.

"I can't do this! I-It's madness! Me… little Christine… taking _La Carlotta's_ place!" The mention of the obnoxious soprano's name made her look around the dressing room—normally Carlotta's dressing room—dawned with the portraits of the singer's in various roles over her five seasons at the Populaire. It did not help the young girl's nerves to know that she was stepping into the shadow of a renowned Opera star, famous throughout Europe, and she was just an orphan that lucked into the chance to replace her.

Meg looked at her friend intently, seeing Christine's worries in her chocolate brown eyes. "You know what else, Christine? The new managers wouldn't let you perform if they didn't think you were phenomenal. They might have been desperate to find a new star, but they picked you because you are a marvelous singer!"

Feeling the corners of her lips curl into a smile as the younger Giry doused the flames of worry that fluttered in Christine's stomach with her words, the two sat up and headed towards the twin oak doors. Meg exited first, and looked behind her, surprised to see Christine hesitating at the threshold.

"Are you coming, Christine?"

Whirling around to her friend she cleared her throat. "I will be just a minute, Meg. I'll catch up with you…"

"Alright, be quick!"

Nodding, Christine closed the door and slumped against its robust frame, letting her head fall back against it as she had done earlier.

"Angel…" Christine began. "Tonight will be the product of all your teaching, I hope I will not disappoint you..."

With those few words spoken, the soprano turned the golden handles and looked back one more time and headed off to her debut. Little did she know that her Angel had heard her words.

* * *

"_Think of me, think of me waking… silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind_." 

Christine flooded her soul into every word she felt flutter in song from her lips. From up in Box 5, both Chantale and Raoul sat watching young Miss Daaé. Raoul brought his glass of champagne to his smiling lips as he fell to the spell that his old friend's song cast upon himself. Her voice had greatly matured from its adolescent sound, it had evolved into a strong and powerful one, that rung throughout the Theatre.

She had been flawlessly taught, the ignorant flaws in her voice when she was younger had been critiqued and perfected. The Vicomte was beginning to wonder if Carlotta would ever return. He certainly hoped not. If the managers thought that the over gloried Diva could put up a better performance than Christine, and let her return to the status of Prima Dona, he would surely have to use his influence as a patron to convince them otherwise.

"_Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you!" _

A wave of applause echoed through the melody of the song played by the Populaire's orchestra. It was apparent that Raoul was not the only one who thought the former ballerina's talent exceptional. In the corner of her eye, Chantale looked over to her fiancé, finding his lauding of the performer a bit over the top. She wasn't even finished!

"Bravo!" he exclaimed. The young patron felt the urge to bolt from their box, and head down, backstage and be there to congratulate his Little Lotte, but it would take more explanation to his fiancée than he would be comfortable giving at his sudden venture.

"_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we. But please promise me that sometimes you will think..." _Her song digressed as she took in a breath of air for her a cappella melody. Her voice sailed through a plight of notes, ranging from all over the musical scale. She sang without accompaniment until she climaxed at a high B, and the symphony rejoined her in her final words.

"_Of me_!"

The applause Christine received in the middle of her aria was greatly dwarfed as to the clamor it now was, at the end of the piece, all the people in audience rose for the accolades. Roses and flowers of all types were practically pelted to girl in praise, enough so to fill a garden.

Looking towards her fellow performers, Christine was greeted with broad smiles from the group of them that crowded to her right. Meg was in front mouthing to her, "I told you so!" Her smile grew as she faced the crowd once more, she couldn't help but scan the attendees and didn't realize how many people were there!

Needless to say, Paris was impressed with Christine Daaé.

* * *

"Vicomte, Duchess, were you impressed with tonight's gala?" Firmin inquired of the passing couple. 

"I-" Chantale began, before Raoul quickly cut her off.

"Indeed we were, Messieurs, Miss Daaé is certainly a talent worth keeping. Are you intending to replace La Carlotta?"

The two managers looked at one another for a moment, it had never crossed their minds to make Christine a permanent Prima Dona at the Populaire, she had been thrust into the spotlight only in hopes of satisfying the crowd's appetite for good Opera, and that she certainly did.

"W-we're not entirely sure as of yet, but we are c-considering it," Andre fibbed, they had not been given the chance yet to digest the success of this performance, but it unquestionably would be discussed soon.

"Well I think that she would a great addition to your Opera House, do take good consideration into you decision, would you?" Raoul advised, with a nod to each of the managers he turned on his heel and walked off. It took poor Chantale a second or so to catch up with brisk fiancé, but snaked her arm through his, lacing her fingers in his as they continued walking.

"The Vicomtess de Rowley has invited us to a rather large gathering at her salon after this," she whispered teasingly in his ear, as if she were telling him a secret between lovers. "I told her I would mention it you… would you like to go?"

"I'd rather not… it's been a long day. I would rather just return to my chateau."

Chantale smiled against his ear. "I think we can arrange that. Would you like to leave now?"

Raoul frowned, he wanted to see Christine, talk to her for the first time in almost ten years, but that would have to wait.

"Alright, I'll order my carriage."

* * *

Erik twirled the stem of the blood red rose in his fingers. It was gift to Christine, his Christine, his ingenue, his Angel, his love, his hope, his light, his _everything_. She had performed in _Hannibal_, giving a grace to the piece that Chalumeau had never even dreamed of for his work. He knew that she would excel if given certain things happened to certain people. For her chance to shine he would play the puppet master. 

He had dropped the scenery on Carlotta, which had truly been killing two birds with one stone. He had been meaning to rid that horrible excuse of an Opera Diva from _his _Opera House, and at the same time it gave dear Antoinette the opportunity to suggest Christine as her understudy.

Of course he had told her that if opportunity should occur, that she make sure Christine has a chance to let her talent be known.

Well, just call him 'opportunity.'

He eyed the clash in colors on the beautiful flower. The healthy green of the stem contrasted the ebony darkness of the ribbon he tied it with. He had intended on leaving it in her dressing room right after the performance, but as it would happen he lost track of time and missed the chance. He would still present her with the token, but in person.

Yes… tonight her 'Angel' would become a man to her.

No longer just the voice that soothed her when she cried, or that would sing to her in her dreams, but turn into a man, that maybe one day she could… love.

Letting his leather clad hand slip in his waistcoat he checked his golden pocket watch, it was nearly ten o'clock. It would be a few hours at least, until it became quiet enough for him to emerge from the catacombs and visit her.

"Soon…" he whispered as he shoved his watch back into its place. "Soon."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first _actual_ chapter. It was originally going to be much longer than this post, but then it would be a bit of a run on, so I decided to divide it into two separate installments. In the next chapter the story will clearly steer away from the movie's plot line. I hope that you all took notice to the revised first chapter. As I probably said before it is the dialogue that I changed, for the most part. I do once again apologize, it was a major faux pas to take the exact words, so I hope that this change will suffice. I also hope that you all are enjoying the story so far. Once more this story will get more interesting next chapter, I am trying for the most part to just paint the scene for you at the moment. The next update should be a week or so. 

**p**L**e**A**s**E** r**E**v**I**e**W

Thanks a bunch!

August Grey

* * *


End file.
